Well now, someone has gone and let himself get all dehydrated and sick. Night before last mom and dad noticed that baby gray wasn't quite the little ball of fire he'd become, and was just kind of laying around. He wouldn't play with his toys, and he seemed to kind of have trouble breathing.
Yesterday morning dad's co-worker, Viv came over to check on the little guy and help out with his care. She's a volunteer with Cat Tails, a wonderful local cat adoption organization, and she's been very helpful to mom and dad in their new role as foster parents.
Grayson became lethargic, and seemed too weak to eat on his own, so he's been getting fluids and softer foods, and he's back to the syringe thingy. Viv came back last night when grayson didn't seem to be doing too well, with the intention of dropping off some pedialyte and baby food, and ended up spending a good portion of her night sitting on the bathroom floor comforting gray and trying to get stuff in him.
He seemed most comfortable curled up in his litter box, and the poor thing looked so sad just laying there. At one point I tucked away my orbitness and poked my head around the half-closed bathroom door to see how things were going.
Mom and dad feel kind of useless, and all they can do is keep trying to get plenty of fluids and food into the little guy as long as he'll take it.
Last night, after they got gray settled and turned off the lights dad found mom crying out in the kitchen. She's sad and scared for baby gray (see- I knew she'd get all attached!), and she feels bad and thinks letting him play too much contributed to his sudden turn.
I kind of feel for him and everything, but boy do I miss being the center of attention!